


This you?

by Apollyon_A



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I love them okay, andrés is doing who knows what, crack treated nice, crackhead prompt turned into angst I guess, fking mcdonalds, jep you read that right, martín is studying engineering, mcdonalds, this has a good ending I promise, this is as far away from canon as humanly possible, this is just Andrés yelling for most part, university au I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:14:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26306170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apollyon_A/pseuds/Apollyon_A
Summary: Who knew a simple picture posted on Twitter could make Andrés lose his shit?Martín finds the whole situation rather hilarious. Until it’s not.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	This you?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collab with the wonderful @maleclipse who drew the beautiful picture mentioned in the fic.
> 
> You can find it [HERE](https://twitter.com/lacasadeklaus/status/1302303572172976129?s=21%E2%80%9D%20rel=) and you should definitely check it out first before reading this otherwise this won’t make much sense to you.
> 
> And let’s be real: we all wanted to see Andrés in something other than his suits for once. Who said it couldn’t be a mcdonalds uniform?

  


“Martín!” He had heard his name being yelled at him many times before, but never like that. Never from him.

“Martín! Delete the fucking picture!” He had also never seen his best friend like that before. Face red from both anger and from running to Martín’s apartment across from campus, which also explained his labored breathing. He was furious.

“Why? I think we look cute together. The uniform suits you.” He didn’t bother getting up from his bed as Andrés slammed the door shut behind himself and then headed towards him, eyes so dark that they looked completely black. Still he felt his pulse quicken, his heart skipping a beat as ten strong fingers grabbed the front of his hoodie and pulled him up into a sitting position, bringing their faces together.

Andrés was towering over him, one knee digging into the thin mattress next to Martín’s thigh. This close he could feel Andrés’ warm breath on his face as he snarled at him, his voice dangerously low. Martín had a hard time paying attention to what his friend was saying, too mesmerized by the face in front of his own.

It must have shown on his face, seeing that the death grip Andrés had had on his hoodie loosened suddenly, and he was pushed back down into the pillows a second later. Under any other circumstances Martín would have outright moaned at being manhandled like that by Andrés, and even now he had to actively bite back the groan that tried to force its way out of his throat, his eyes following Andrés through the room as he frantically searched for something. Martín’s phone.

“You know what this picture could do to my reputation, Martín? There’s a reason why I chose the store farthest away from campus! And you butchered all of that so you could have a little laugh at my expenses!”  
  
He was yelling again, and turned to Martín, now sitting up on the bed, when his search for his phone turned out fruitless. The next time he spoke his voice was a lot calmer, but the hurt expression on his face made Martín wish he would yell at him again.

“I thought you were my friend. My _best_ friend. Guess I was wrong.” It felt like being punched in the gut to hear those words from him, and Martín scrambled off the bed as his friend turned towards the door, shaking his head vehemently.

“Andrés wait—“ If it had been anyone else Martín would have been sure that he would be punched in the next three seconds with how fast Andrés spun around as he grabbed his wrist, their faces once again only a few inches apart.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing that left his mouth, and he hated how high pitched it sounded to his own ears. “It was just a joke. I didn’t know that it would upset you—“

“Yes you did. You knew exactly how a picture like that of me on the goddamn internet would make me feel, Martín,” he all but hissed in his face, teeth bared in a snarl.

“But only you can see it.”

Silence stretched between them as they stared at each other, confusion flicking across Andrés features while Martín tried to stop his heart from pounding against his ribcage.

“What do you mean only I can see it? You posted it on twitter.” His voice was laced with mistrust, his brows slightly drawn together.

“My account is private. Only my followers can see my tweet, and you’re the only one following me, Andrés. I would have never posted the picture otherwise.”  
He paused then, swallowing around the lump in his throat.  
  
“I would have never hurt you like that, Andrés. I couldn’t.” The _I love you too much to ever hurt you on purpose_ was silent.

“Nobody else can see it?”

“No.”

It was as if all the anger that had possessed Andrés just a few minutes earlier left his body at once, his shoulders relaxing visibly, and he let out a deep sigh through his nose, bringing the hand Martín wasn’t desperately clinging to up to massage the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s lay down, yeah?” Martín asked softly, as if he knew just how much the headache building behind Andrés’ eyes hurt his head. He let himself be gently pulled to the bed and soon found himself on his back, head cushioned in Martín’s lap as his feet dangled off the side of the bed.  
  
He had gotten rid of the jacket and vest he had worn over his crisp white dress shirt before laying down, neatly folded on the small nightstand next to the bed, his eyes closed while Martín’s skilled fingers gently massaged his temples before moving on to brush through his hair.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he said after a long time had passed, his lips twitching into a small smile at the hum he got as an answer from his friend.

“It’s okay. I forgive you.” He always did in the end. He could never stay mad at Andrés for long, especially if he was the reason for his anger. “And I’m sorry too.”

His words earned him another smile from Andrés, who cracked open one eye to look at him before relaxing further against the mattress, turning his head to rest his cheek against Martín’s thigh and allow him to pet the other side of his face with gently fingers.

“Do you work tonight?” Andrés asked then, basking in the attention of Martín who couldn’t tear his eyes away from his relaxed features, like a cat laying in the sun.  
He didn’t have to see his face to know that his lips would be curled into an affectionate smile, green eyes full of adoration for him and him only while his cheeks and the tips of his ears glowed in a rosy red.  
Happiness was a good look on his soon to be engineer.

“No. I have the double shift next Tuesday so they gave me off today. You?”

“Mhm. No. We should stay in. I don’t feel like spending time with the rest of our peers tonight.”

“Sounds good to me.” Of course it did. Spending time alone with Andrés was the highlight of most of his days. Nobody understood him like Andrés did.

“Oh and Martín? The next time you post a picture like that of me somewhere, I’ll post the picture of you in Nairobi’s dress from Helsinki’s last birthday party on my account. And mine isn’t private.”  
  
“You wouldn’t dare!” Martín remarked loudly, the fingers caressing Andrés’ jaw stopping momentarily. 

Andrés's lips curved into a smile. It’s a languid, lazy one that never fails to make Martín's heart flutter inside his chest. Paired with the playful glint in Andrés’ eyes that stared up at him, it was enough to make Martín feel dizzy. God — he wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Oh, Martín, you have no idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find us on twitter: [OfStarkism](https://twitter.com/OfStarkism) & [LACASADELECTER](https://twitter.com/LACASADELECTER)


End file.
